A Sweet Kiss
by featherwriting
Summary: Set in GoF book, Hermione realizes the reason behind Viktor Krum's invitation to the Yule Ball. When things could only turn worse for her, a man she never thought she'd love comes to her aid. Contains intended rape and violence, Dramione.


**_A Sweet Kiss_**

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><p><em>"Pansy Parkinson gaped at [Hermione] as she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn't seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her."<em> – **pg. 414, chp. 23 Yule Ball, _Goblet of Fire_**

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><p>The great bell tower rung out, announcing the arrival of midnight. Most students hadn't realized it was so late; they had been so immersed and busy with the Yule Ball. Only the ones that had stepped outside into the fairy-lit grotto, just outside the wide oak doors, either for a bit of fresh cool air, or to be alone with their partners, knew that it was truly nighttime. At the instruction and escorting of the teachers, the Great Hall that had been magnificently transformed into a winter wonderland for the occasion slowly trickled the mass of the Ball. The Durmstrangs were the first of the throng to depart their dates and file out the doors. They turned down a path branched from the grotto to the left, and started for a treaded path through the snow towards the Black Lake and their awaiting, moored ship. Afterwards, the Beauxbatons skirted through the doors, taking a right direction and their own path to their carriage set beside Hagrid's hut. It was the perfect evening and beginning of early morning, complete with a clear, deep indigo night sky spattered with winking stars and an opal moon.<p>

The only Durmstrang yet to have left for his ship was Viktor Krum, and he was currently holding Hermione's hand tightly as he wound unspecific through the corridors of Hogwarts. Hermione, as perusal, was haunted by the fleeting feelings of worry and reluctance, not wanting to be caught and wondering how Karkaroff would react to having missed his most prized student. Wanting this night to remain perfect and blemish-free of her routine position of holding back Harry and Ron's on their plans of mischief, she pushed the thoughts and unwelcomed feelings from mind, and tried her best to daintily run behind Viktor as he brought her further into Hogwarts. Even as it was her school, Hermione was beginning to look around for some landmark that she been here, but it unchartered territory, and by the means of it, they could have very well been even beneath the dungeons.

Without warning, Viktor stopped. Hermione nearly slammed into him if he hadn't spun at the last moment and caught her by the hips. Believing this was just a more romantic gesture to stop her advance than, say, shoving her back from running into him by the shoulders, she giggled and began to take a step back, noting the mere centimeter between their bodies. As she did, Viktor dug his fingers just slightly into her waist, ensuring a hold that kept her that close to his body. Looking up, Hermione was surprised by how near their faces were, how dark his deep brown eyes were brooded, and how charismatic his soft smirk was… before he placed his lips over hers.

Hermione never realized how soft but firm his lips looked until he pulled away just a tad. She opened her eyes, expecting a small smile to assure she was okay, but found his eyes had a new gleam to their depths… hunger. A flicker of fear rippled through her chest but she didn't have time to attend to it as Viktor leaned down again, and his arms wound around her, closing the little space between them. Yet, the kiss was so earnest and enthusiastic, her thoughts scattered, and she found herself opening her mouth to his. His musk that she tasted was interesting; there was the slight flavor of unnamed alcohol, and possibly even tobacco. It was interestingly… unappealing. Nevertheless, she lost these thoughts as well at the surprise of feeling his tongue running along her top lip. Suddenly, the flagstone floor left her feet as Viktor lifted her in the air. Her hands had been resting on his thick biceps, but were now beginning to prop her up, Hermione wanting to protest against what Viktor was doing. The cool of a stone wall was apparent against her back, and Viktor was nearly crushing her between that and his thick body. His kisses were becoming overpowering, and Hermione furrowed her brows practically in an expression of pain. She managed to break the tide of kissing for a moment, to mutter, "Viktor!" in what was clearly a warning, exasperated tone. A low growl was all the reply Hermione got and Viktor stopped her from speaking further by covering his mouth over hers again. His hands were no longer romantically wound around her, but were on her sides, just below her ribs, as though his body pressing her against the wall wasn't enough to suspend her from touching the ground. At this, one of his hands dropped and grabbed a handful of her flowing dress, seizing it up, and then grabbed another fist. Now, the flicker of fear morphed into alarm in her head. This was not the kind of relationship she wanted, with anybody at the moment, let alone _Krum_. She let one of her hands fall and tries to grab Viktor's wrist, to keep him from going further, but he was much stronger, too strong, for her, and he brushed away her hand. Bundling the length of her dress at her hip, his warm hand touched Hermione's thigh, raising goose prickles at the contrast to the suddenly obvious chilly draft in the dark, dank corridor. When Hermione tried again to grab at his hand and take it from her exposed thigh, he merely hooked his wrist around her knee joint and swung it around his waist. This allowed him to move farther into her, between her legs, and Hermione was starting to struggle. She broke free of his suffocating kisses and managed a demanding, "Stop it-" when he moved in again and bit her lip with an emphasis. Though he didn't break skin, it was enough to cause Hermione to yelp quietly in pain, and her hand that was trying to push Viktor's hand off her thigh automatically rose to check if she was bleeding.

This was spirally out of control. Hermione had no leverage against Viktor as he felt his fingers run up her leg to her underwear, and curl around the thin cotton. He started to drag it back down. Hermione shoved against his broad chest, and she felt the weight of his body lift a bit momentarily, but he pushed back against her, resulting in cracking the back of her head against the wall. Dazed, Hermione couldn't tell how well she was fending for herself, and black spots danced before her vision. Viktor was suddenly at her neck, not giving sweet lover's kisses, but biting her, and more aggressively than she would have liked. They hurt, and she could feel marks appearing on her pale flesh, but when she tried to shrug his mouth away, he snapped down on her collarbone.

Hermione screamed in the same instant someone collided with the pair of them. Hermione was sent sprawling across the floor, her head throbbing, her lip having gone numb, a pain tingling on the surface of his collarbone, and now her gorgeous dress soiled. Stunned further, Hermione couldn't discern the grappling of two men just feet away, or who the other's grunts were mingled with Viktor's. Clothes shuffled violently, they fought against each other on the stones, and then there was a dark blur, and Hermione could make out Viktor crashing against the opposite wall. Blinking furiously, the black spots faded, the resolution of her vision sharpened, and she watched the last moments as Viktor stood, bleeding from his nose and a cut on his eyebrow, muttered noticeable swear words in Bulgarian, and took a step forward. He glowered at a figure over Hermione, but didn't dare take her eyes from Viktor, for fear he would turn for her. Without a backwards glance, Viktor suddenly fled, bolting down the unfamiliar corridor. Hermione watched his shoulders swing away.

Another's presence was beside her, kneeling, and a gentle hand touched her collarbone. Whipping her head around, her elegant knot that had been tied up on the back of her head having fallen and stray locks moved across her face, she lifted a hand brushed them away to reveal… Malfoy.

But it wasn't the Malfoy she had known. His expression wasn't screwed up in a sneer, complete with insults spewing from his lips. Instead, it was softened and concerned, his shining silver eyes roaming over the apparent bite marks upon her neck and lining her chest. His hand was cool, refreshing compared to Viktor's, and he traced his fingers over her hot skin, looking for any other damaged to her body. His eyes, mirroring the intensity and serenity of the moon, scanned over her face, spotting the swelled bump on the corner of her mouth from where Viktor had bitten her there too, and his eyebrows knitted together in worry. Surprising Hermione to temporary paralysis, he touched her lip, his cool thumb having the effect along the same meaning of ice to a knot on the head. Speaking of which, Hermione jerked a hand up to the back of her head, causing Malfoy to jump. She touched the spot that had cracked against the wall, and gingerly touched it, though it reacted smartly to her fingertips.

"Hermione," whispered Malfoy. "Are-"

"Why did you call me that?" Hermione blurted. Malfoy's expression flitted from concern, to puzzlement, and then mixed in between.

"Because that's your name," he replied, like it was an obvious answer to a rather lackluster question.

"You have never called me by that." Hermione didn't seem able to stop herself.

Malfoy didn't reply, casting his dazzling eyes down. His behavior was unlike Hermione had ever witnessed, let alone experienced, but it was by no means subtle and a nice change to the way Viktor had been treating her. At that thought, Hermione was able to take into account on how she fended. There was a clammy sweat lining her hairline, her nerves were going haywire from the amount of fear and worry that had coursed her, and her breathing was just catching up after nearly hyperventilating from crying out to Viktor's bites, his pressure against her chest, and then being flung to the floor. As it was, Hermione looked up and saw that Malfoy had no signs of being in scuffle unlike Viktor and all his blood.

"You saved me," Hermione whispered.

Malfoy looked back into her eyes, and all the unspoken reasons and feelings were distinct in the swimming pools of gray. Hermione didn't say anything else, and never broke eye contact. She lifted her hand and touched his pale, cool cheek, and he responded by cupping her chin. Hermione enjoyed his touch. The ghost of a smile tainted his flawless lips. Hermione reflected him.

"You looked beautiful tonight," Malfoy admitted. "Even now…" he trailed off.

Malfoy dropped the hand on his face and found her other hand on her lap. Taking it, he slowly intertwined their fingers, pulling them together until their palms touched. Hermione held on. The fingers that had been running the length of his cheekbone slid down his jaw, past his neck, and until his shoulder, which was surprisingly taut and solid, even if he was just propping himself on it. Hermione looked to his platinum blonde hair, seeing it a bit ruffled from the fight, and longed to fix it. But rather, she found it devilish and kept it alone. When her eyes met his again, as they never left her glowing face from the dimly lit torches along the corridor's walls, Hermione felt more safe and comfortable in his company than she ever did with Viktor, even when she was with Harry in the library and he was rows away.

"Draco-" Hermione abruptly stopped. She had just called him Draco, and under no circumstances had she ever called him that before. He noted this, as his eyes seemed to light up even brighter.

"Don't talk," he said as she went to open her mouth again. "I am the one with the explaining.

"I'm quite pathetic, really. I trailed along with my father's explicit idea of society. We discern ourselves from others, pretend to be superior, _believe_ we are because we have generations of witches and wizards. Dividing ourselves from others because they're half-blood or muggle-born… it's cruel. But I was blind. The wealth, the power, the pride. It changes a person before they can even realize there was anything to change. But tonight… I guess all I needed was for you to show up every other damn student in this school, and easily with such beauty as yours. It shook me into my sense; my real ones. It made me look at Pansy on my arm, a pure-blood but nowhere as near as beautiful as you, and how our blood doesn't matter. If I were to cut my neck and Krum's, we would die the same way, with the same life leaving us on the same rivers of blood… that are the same color. I have come to know that no matter your background, no matter your birth, our blood is the same. It is the same color. Having just that one lousy idea keeping me from every loving you-"

Here Draco stopped. His eyes widened just imperceptibly. He closed his mouth.

Hermione leaned forward, tears streaking her cheeks, her eyes glossy as they stared at Draco's, and she caught his scent. It was light, but masculine. Only a tad musky, it was also of… parchment. Fresh sheaves of parchment, like the aroma rising from a new book to sift through. Hermione closed the space between them, and touched her warm lips to his cool. He responded tenderly, remembering her swollen lip. It was sweet kiss.

"I love you too, Draco," Hermione murmured, her words caressing his lips and filling his heart. "And you're not pathetic."

It was a lover's kiss.

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><p><strong>AN: Feedback is always welcome. I hope you enjoyed my first Dramione fanfic. Thank you for reading!**

**-x**


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